Do You Feel It?
by IWriteFandomStuff
Summary: What happened after the end of "Auto Erotic Assimilation?" Here's my take on it. Trigger Warning, broh.


Author's notes:  
\- I had this idea when I was in the shower last night so...Hope you guys like it.  
\- Also, incase you didn't read in the description...trigger warnings.

* * *

It was quiet in her room as she lay on her bed, phone idly resting on bedside table under the lamp.

Summer had canceled her plans for the day when she'd arrived home through the portal the day before, Morty in toe, both feeling an array of emotions.

She could tell Morty was a little shocked and awkward about the fact that they'd left their grandfather on that assimilated planet. From the look of utter loss on his face and the silence he emitted, he clearly hadn't been expecting the rejection from Grandpa Rick that she was all too used to getting. And why would he? He was Rick's favorite, after all.

Summer on the other hand was angry and hurt yet again by her Grandpa Rick. She never understood why he had to be such a dick to her.

* * *

"Okay, well, what if you did it for me?" she had pleaded. "What if you came with us as a favor to us, because you love us?"

"What?" he scoffed. "Dumb. Bye."

"But Rick," Morty said sadly. "Summer's just–"

"Summer's just a hyper-emotional, needy little – what's the word I'm looking for here? Uh...human," Rick snapped, cutting him off and glaring at the both of them. "It runs in the family; I can tolerate it, but I _can't_ give a crap about it. Take a hike."

They both stood there, not knowing how to react to his harsh words, and Summer had felt like ice was flowing through her veins instead of blood. They weren't the closest, but Summer did love her grandfather. And she had hoped that in the almost-two years he had lived with them, he would have formed some kind of respect for her.

Clearly, it hadn't happened.

* * *

She'd been fuming when she came through that portal; utterly and completely beyond furious. And she remained like that for a majority of the rest of the day.

The first thing she did was tell all of her friends she didn't feel well and didn't think she'd be able to make it to the mall with them like they had all planned for the next day. The bitterness she was feeling was all too consuming, and she knew she'd need the rest of the weekend to burn it off. Her friends didn't deserve to see her in such a pissed off state, and they'd texted her back on their group message telling her they'd hoped she'd feel better soon.

The next thing she did was throw herself onto the couch and wait. She knew Rick couldn't stay there forever, and she wanted to make sure he could see full well how mad she was when he came home. Morty slowly sat down next to her, quiet and confused.

She was mad that Rick blew her off like she meant nothing again. At that point, she knew she shouldn't be surprised by his actions. This was Rick, after all, and she knew all too well who and how he was as a person. But she still felt hurt and upset and so many things she didn't want to feel.

She was also mad that he hurt Morty and made him feel rejected in the ways that he had. Summer knew the truth about both of them; how they were alternate versions of her real brother and grandfather from another dimension. It was a disturbing fact she'd eventually numbed herself to, because when she didn't think about it, she really couldn't tell the difference. But she knew how traumatizing it was for Morty, because he'd actually told her so one night when he couldn't sleep and wandered into her room.

Rick was all Morty had. Rick was the last connection Morty felt to his own home and his real parents and sister and everything he left behind. Rick was the most important person in Morty's life, and he had abandoned him. It was sick, and she didn't know how someone could be so heartless. How someone could put an entire planet of sex opportunities before that kind of bond.

But it happened, and there they sat on the couch, not sure of what to do; the TV was on with some alien newscast from their interdimensional box, but neither of them bothered to change the channel.

A few minutes after they'd taken their places, they heard the garage door slam shut, causing them both to jump a bit. Summer braced herself, ready to yell at her grandfather, but in walked her parents. Her mother looked slightly terrified and her father looked just as pissed as she was. She huffed and sank back into the couch; Morty just looked back down onto the floor.

Beth and Jerry came to stand in front of them.

"Did you two know about that lair under the garage?" Jerry demanded.

Morty bit his lip, unsure of what to say. Summer also hesitated, not knowing how to answer the question. But then, she decided fuck it.

"Yes," she told them.

"EVEN THEY KNEW!" Jerry shouted. "BETH THIS HAS GOT TO STOP! THAT THING DOWN THERE COULD HAVE EATEN OUR CHILDREN! DO YOU NOT SEE HOW WRONG THIS IS?! WHEN RICK GETS BACK, LET ME TELL YOU…"

Summer stopped listening to their argument and mused about how great it would feel to yell at Rick in that way. To let him know how much he screwed up this time, and maybe if she was lucky, see a realization in his eyes. Maybe even get an apology from him. If only…

Eventually the yelling stopped and the family found themselves all sitting together in the living room, Jerry flipping through channels muttering how annoyed her was every few minutes and the other three sitting in silence waiting for something to happen.

It was hours before they heard the front door open, and saw Rick's lanky figure enter the living room, no doubt heading for the garage. It was weird that he had come through the front of the house, but she chose not to dwell on it.

Summer squared her shoulders and readied herself. She planned on following Rick in there and giving him a piece of her mind. There were thousands of curses and profanities on her tongue ready to be fired out at him, until she noticed something…off.

Something was wrong.

Rick wasn't walking with his usual, 'I'm better than everyone' demeanor. Instead, his shoulders were hunched down and his hands were stuffed in his pockets. He kept his eyes on the floor. In fact, he was avoiding eye contact with any of them.

Something was wrong.

He wasn't commenting on how boring they all looked and how amazing his weekend was. He wasn't telling Morty that he had some important business and that he needed his help. He wasn't bragging about some incredible invention he was going to work on while they all sat there and did nothing of interest to him.

Something was wrong.

Although it was awkward, her mother got up and challenged him on his secret lair in the garage. She stood up to him and told him he wasn't allowed to do anything that extreme again without consent, and he agreed. Easily. Red flags went up in Summer's brain as he simply threw an "okay" and continued his route to the garage.

Something was wrong.

He looked defeated almost. His whole body seemed more exhausted and weary than she had ever seen. His eyes held a pain that could suffocate someone. He looked sadder than she thought humanly possible.

Something was wrong with him.

And she was the only one who seemed to notice.

"Grandpa Rick!" she stopped him, all the anger in her body suddenly replaced by an odd curiosity and fear. "What happened with Unity…?"

"Who?" he responded.

He pretended like he had no idea what she was talking about. He acted like she was asking him something that wasn't possible. And his answer scared her all the more.

"Well, I mean honestly, we're talking about an entity that thrives on enslavement, ya know? It's not cool. Fun's fun but who needs it? I'll be in the garage."

She couldn't stop him, then. She had nothing else to say that would stall him from escaping to that garage where he would be alone. But she had an overwhelming feeling that someone should be with him right now; that under no circumstances should Rick be alone. He was giving off a bad vibe.

With his absence, the family dispersed. Morty walked upstairs to his room to do whatever. Jerry retreated to the second living room, no doubt to read golf magazines and wait until his anger subsided. Beth quietly said something about going to the store to get groceries.

Summer stood up and walked into the kitchen, hovering by the garage door. She wanted to walk in, but surprising Rick seemed like it might not be the best course of action. Still, she couldn't just leave him alone. So she stood there, pondering over what she should do.

Without any warning, a sudden loud clanking noise crashed into the door, and she jumped. It sounded like metal hitting the wall, and then it fell to the floor. What on earth was that?

The crashing sound was followed by what sounded like some sort of infant crying. It was a horrid, high-pitched whining. She was more confused than she'd ever been.

Then there was the sound of glass shattering, like a beaker had been thrown across the room. What on earth was happening?

She was reaching for the doorknob, ready to enter the garage to see what Rick was doing.

Another horrible sound exploded from behind the door, paired with a burst of violently red light that flashed behind it. It was a noise she couldn't accurately describe, and she had no idea what the light indicated. The power in the house had surged with that flash of light, and the sound of a scream of pain, but it was not from Rick. Something else screamed a terrible scream, and then faded to nothing.

Her hand was on the doorknob at that point, and she tried with everything in her to open the door. But her hand wouldn't turn, and she didn't know why. Maybe it was because she was afraid.

One final crash hit the door, and out of instinct, her hand jerked back. Whatever Rick was doing in there, he clearly wanted to be alone. Maybe he knew she was standing there and was trying to scare her off. Maybe he just needed to get out what he was feeling, and whatever he was doing was his way of doing just that.

Whatever the reason, she felt hallow in the pit of her stomach, because she realized that she could do probably nothing to ease whatever pain Rick was feeling. She concluded that it was best to leave Rick to do whatever he was up to, and check on him later.

Summer backed away from the door and slowly headed upstairs, unsure of herself and her choices. She decided to check on Rick at dinner and see how he looked after his activities. So she settled on absent-mindedly texting her friends and browsing Facebook until then.

When Rick was absent from dinner, she started to panic a little. If anyone else was alarmed, they didn't say anything. It was practically silent all throughout the meal. Jerry was still mad, Beth was still defeated from losing their argument and Morty just looked worn out.

Summer's eyes kept flickering between the sad scene before her, and the entry to the kitchen, hoping Rick would walk out and join them. He'd walk in all cocky as usual, and crack jokes about something they didn't understand. He'd compliment Beth's cooking and throw an insult or two at Jerry when the opportunity presented itself. She wanted that; she wanted that normality to come back, but it didn't.

Soon after dinner, everyone split up again. Beth and Jerry went to bed, Morty doing the same. And she found herself sitting at the table alone, thinking again.

Should she go check on Rick? Bring him some food? Water? See if he wanted Morty for anything?

In her mind, Summer knew she was probably the last person Rick wanted to see. She couldn't help but feel she had contributed to the way he was feeling, because of the argument that they'd had before she and Morty left him on Unity's planet. She had told him he was a horrible person, and they had separated on a bad note.

Still, she couldn't just leave him alone when he seemed to be in a bad place and no one else seemed to see it. After the horrible noises and lights had stopped, there was nothing but silence in the garage. For all she knew, Rick might not have even been there. Maybe he did leave like he had promised her mother he wouldn't? The thought scared her all over again.

Discouraged and unsure, Summer forced herself upstairs again, and she settled into her bed for the night. Morning, she had decided. If she didn't see Rick by morning, she'd go check on him. And she knew she needed to apologize. She didn't know what had actually happened to put Rick in this mindset, but she knew she owed him some form of a sorry.

After all, he had been fairly nice to her before everything went to shit when they'd discovered Unity. He'd asked her if she wanted to go along with him and Morty as they went to another planet for ice cream. He'd played her song on the radio as they flew through space, and sang the words along with them. He'd stood in front of both her and Morty to protect them when they thought they were in danger from Unity while she assimilated the rest of the crew on that ship.

All she'd done was question his choices and tell him that he sucked. She'd tried to disguise it as Unity stealing people's freedom, but at the core of it all, she was jealous. Jealous that she was finally getting some attention – some love – from Grandpa Rick, and it was being taken away. She was being reminded yet again that she didn't matter, and she hated it.

Somehow she'd managed to fall asleep, but she awoke frequently and tossed and turned all night. It wasn't a very restful night.

Throughout the time Rick had lived with them, she had always observed him. From that first day he walked through the door, disappeared for a few hours behind another with her mom, and had her mom emerged and told them that their grandfather was going to be staying with them, she'd studied him. She was fascinated by this character who she had never known, and she was intrigued by how strange and smart and brilliant he was. At the same time, she was curious as to why he was the way he was.

From what she understood, he did and saw things no one else ever had. He had the opportunity to rule and destroy planets and go wherever he wanted to go without consequence. All in all, he was the most intelligent being in existence and he openly acknowledged the fact so many times. And even though he had it all, he still seemed unhappy.

She was the only one who ever seemed to see it. Rick always had a sad, haggard look to him when he thought no one was looking. There were days when he drank more than others. Days when the bags under his eyes seemed deeper and more intense. Days when he was more quiet than anything. Days when he seemed like he didn't understand the point of anything.

This had not only been one of those days, but this had been the worst she'd ever seen it. She couldn't fight off the horrible feeling in her chest that this time was far more serious than any other time before.

She awoke one final time to the sound of metal scrapping against something, creating a horrible loud noise. She blinked a few times slowly and her hands flew to her ears, trying to block it out. When it wouldn't relent, she forced herself out of bed, a blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, and looked out the window to see her father "weed whacking," if she could even call it that. Sparks flew up from the cement as Jerry cut way too close into the driveway. What an idiot.

She also noticed her mother's car was absent, probably off for an early shift at the horse hospital. Jerry eventually moved on and disappeared behind the house, no doubt to tend to the weeds in the backyard, and she sighed. It was too early to be awake on a Sunday.

But then she remembered the day before. Memories slowly seeped into her brain as she felt more and more awake. And she remembered Rick in the garage.

She flew down the hall, blanket hanging off her shoulders and flying behind her like a cape. She noticed Morty's door was still closed, and the light was still off behind it. Good, she hoped he was getting a better sleep than she had gotten.

At the end of the hall was Rick's bedroom. The door was cracked open and she peaked inside. No Rick. Then she flew down the stairs and searched the house. The kitchen, the living rooms and the bathrooms were all empty. No Rick.

And she noticed the garage door was still closed.

She looked at it for a moment and pursed her lips. He was still in there, hopefully, and she knew she couldn't stand for him acting like this any longer. He needed someone, whether he was going to admit it or not. Seventeen straight hours of being alone in the garage was proof of that.

So with no further hesitation, she opened the door and looked inside.

The first thing she saw, much to her relief, was the sleeping form of her grandfather, snoring softly at his workbench. The fact that he was still there was a strong relief.

The garage was cold; much colder than usual, no doubt from the main door being open all night. The autumn air seeped in and left a chill. How Rick managed to sleep through that, she didn't really understand.

Second, there was a towering machine thing over him. She wasn't sure what it was, exactly. It was one of Rick's inventions that she had never seen before, and she wondered what it did. And it made her nervous, because she didn't like the way it looked and the way Rick was resting underneath it.

Something was wrong.

Quietly, she advanced into the garage, keeping her eyes locked on him. She didn't want to wake him up, because she guessed he'd probably been up all night building that thing or doing whatever he had been doing.

Something was wrong.

When she heard a small crunching noise beneath her feet, she froze, eyes locked on Rick. When he didn't stir, she lifted her foot and observed a broken piece of glass lodged into her shoe, the other half of the piece she stepped on still on the floor. That was when she noticed all of the broken glass covering the floor. Rick's flask was among the pieces, thrown carelessly there.

Something was wrong.

She quickly and quietly sidestepped and dodged every piece of glass then, suddenly needing answers more than she had been before. Rick was clearly in a worse place than she thought if he was throwing his favorite flask away and breaking beakers and other things in his garage to vent out his feelings.

Something was wrong.

When she finally made it to the desk, the first thing she did was take the blanket off of her shoulders and place it carefully on Rick. Then she maneuvered around the desk, stood in front of him, and eyed the machine. She looked it up and down, inspecting for any signs of what it did. When she looked at the top of it, she concluded it was even with the height of her head, and that she could fit her head between the two metal conducting prongs where a small read laser emitted from each end. She frowned, not knowing what that meant, but some part of her was growing colder.

Something was wrong.

Looking down at her grandfather's desk, she noticed a few more things. More bits of broken glad mixed with red bits of something – a crystal, perhaps – were scattered all around Rick's head. And underneath his head was a weird gray powder. What it was, she didn't know. Was it some kind of space drug? Was it the result of his experiment?

Something was wrong.

She pinched some of the weird powder and held it up. It felt chalky and dry as she rubbed it between her fingers. Nothing felt out of the ordinary with this weird dust, so she want to pick up more for another observation. Her finger tapped a piece of something solid mixed with the powder, and she picked it up. It was a piece of a bone, and when she looked back down at that dust, she could see even more pieces of it. Instantly, she realized that ash was the remains of something.

Something was wrong.

Puzzle pieces slowly started to connect. The crying she heard yesterday, the broken glass, the weird machine…it was all starting to write a dark story in Summer's head and her eyes grew wide as she looked at the head of her sleeping grandfather before her.

Something was wrong with him.

Her lip was trembling then as she lifted a large shard of the broken glass in her hand, as if holding it could bring her to some other conclusion. She didn't want to believe what she now knew had happened. What Rick had been doing in the garage; what all this brokenness surrounding her meant.

She couldn't even force herself to try to picture a world without Rick. Even though he'd only been a part of her life for just less than two years, it still scared her to no end.

It scared her to think of what the loss could do to her mother. Rick had already been absent for 20 years of Beth's life, and all she had ever wanted was her father to be around. She had finally gotten that, and if it would have been ripped away from her in _that_ way…

Summer shivered at the thought.

More so, it scared her how Morty would have reacted. To lose his best and only friend, and the only piece of his real home he had left...it would hurt Morty worse than whatever Rick was feeling. It would hurt Morty worse than he'd ever deserved, and he had already been dealt enough pain from the hands of Rick, even if it was unintentional. The thought made Summer even sadder.

She didn't realize she'd been gripping the shard of glass in her hand, and when a sharp discomfort pierced her thoughts, she'd immediately dropped it. Blood slowly oozed from a cut on her palm, and she simultaneously squeaked in response to the pain while the piece of glass fell to the floor, breaking in half.

Summer jumped. Rick stirred.

 _Oh shit._

***

Clank; something fell to the floor.

Rick groaned, the noise bringing him back to the waking world; a world he had no desire to be a part of.

Behind his closed eyes, he could tell it was bright; a new day. He didn't feel rested for having been asleep for clearly a long time. His back was sore and a harsh throbbing in his skull indicated he was definitely having the worst hangover of his life, and he'd had some bad ones. His eyes were sealed shut, afraid of the amount of pain opening his eyes and taking in the light would bring. What did he drink last night again?

Rick's brain slowly began to register the world around him. He stiffened a little bit when he realized he wasn't in his bed. No, not in this position: when his head was resting atop of his numb arms. The surface was hard beneath his arms and hands and his back was bent over.

Table? No, workbench…in the garage. He had fallen asleep in the garage. Why was he there?

Piece by piece, his mind rebuilt the story of last night, and how he got to where he was.

More than anyone, Rick Sanchez knew he was a shitty person. He had always known that fact, but he didn't know how to be any other way, and so he buried his shame with alcohol and countless cross-dimensional adventures. Another of his fabulous traits was that Rick cared about very few people, but he was shit at showing that to them. Although he was bad at showing it, due to the whole, 'being the shittiest person in existence' bit, but he still did care for at least a handful of individuals.

So when two of the most important people in his life, one being his granddaughter, the other being an entire planet of someone he loved, both told him that he was a horrible person on the same day, it was frustrating. So frustrating, he swore that he couldn't take anymore. And if anything else should happen, he might as well be better off dead.

When he finally got back home, his own daughter – his own fucking daughter – had scolded him for screwing up, too; for keeping an alien locked up in a previously unknown underground lair he'd made. And that was the final straw. He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take existing when he didn't feel like he was good for anyone or belonged anywhere. He'd spent 20 years of his life trying to find somewhere to fit in, but the universe had overwhelmed him.

Before he returned to his family after his 20-year absence, he thought about doing it. The only thing that saved him then was the thought that he had one last chance to get it right. So he made up with Beth, moved in, and gave the whole family life thing a try. It seemed like it was working for a while, and the few times he'd gotten in trouble for miniscule things he had done, he was able to get out of it easily.

This time was different. This time, his daughter was telling him straight up that he needed to change or he didn't need to be there.

And he'd had enough of people telling him he was shit for a lifetime.

So he excused himself into the garage and…

Well, apparently he'd failed, because he was definitely still alive. He drank too much and passed out.

 _Motherfucker…_

At that point, Rick had two choices.

One, he could try it again, sober this time, and actually succeed. He'd used up his only two power crystals, though, and he'd have to go get another one, which would require a cross-galaxy trip. And that'd be impossible until he got through this hangover from hell.

Two, he could continue on like nothing had ever happened, because clearly the universe wanted him around if he couldn't do it last night. Seriously, the odds of a super genius failing at his own suicide weren't great. Obviously he was meant to be there.

But also, fuck the universe…

Then, a noise; a faint, little dripping noise occurred right in front of him. It had been so silent in the garage that he could have heard anything, and he'd definitely heard a drip. Part of him didn't care, but the other part of him was curious, so he took the chance and opened his eyes.

He found his granddaughter looking down at him, horrified.

She should have run. She should have ran out of the garage the second he started moving. She should have avoided the confrontation, but she didn't. It didn't seem right to leave Rick now.

Summer was frozen in shock when he looked up at her, like a deer in the headlights. It was like she couldn't process that he'd woken up and was staring straight at her. She felt like she'd invaded a private and weak moment for him, and that he was going to yell at her for being there. But it never came.

Rick looked at her for a few seconds, debating whether he should ask her why she looked so freaked out or why she was there in the first place, staring at him while he was sleeping. The questions died in his brain the second he registered the red substance painting her arm, starting from her hand and moving downward.

 _Red? Red water? Wait, no, that's blood. God, hangovers fucking suck…_

 _Wait, blood?_

"What the fuck happened to your hand?" he demanded.

She was clutching her hand to her chest, blood oozing out from it and down her entire arm eventually dripping onto the floor. All of his bad thoughts were temporarily pushed aside; his granddaughter needed medical attention. Through the pain of the hangover, Rick was pushing himself to stand, instincts taking over.

 _Find the source of blood, clean it out, close it up._

"I– you– the glass– I was looking for…" Summer tried to string together a coherent sentence.

"Let me see it," Rick held out his hand, realizing getting the explanation from her right away clearly wasn't going to happen.

He walked around the table to stand in front of her, grabbing a towel off of the desk as he approached. She held out her bloody hand to him. At that point, he didn't think about getting gloves or something to keep Summer blood off of him. He'd been covered in others' blood before, and compared to the shit that he'd seen, this was a cakewalk. He was completely focused on the task at hand.

Summer held her breath and tried as best as she could to refrain from wincing; each time the towel hit her hand, it stung. He tried to dab at the wound gently, wiping away the blood to find the gash just above the center of her palm.

"I've seen worse," he concluded. "Not the deepest cut in the world, but you definitely need to close it up. You probably shouldn't be playing with broken glass, though."

He started to move away from her then, retreating to behind his bench and sifting through a collection of bottles.

"Can you take me?" she asked, still not wanting to leave him alone. "Mom's not here, Morty can't drive yet and I like to avoid time with my dad almost as much as you do. He's unbearable when he's not working."

"Pshh, doctors are dumb," Rick said, pulling specific beakers from his collection. "They always wanna tell you something w–w–worse is wrong with you so you freak out and spend more money to fix whatever's wrong with you. Did you know your body is equipped to handle itself and fight off like 90% of the shit people get infected with? Medicine ruined people, Summer. Doctors ruined people. People are shitty."

She raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't stop him from speaking.

"I can fix you up here, you don't need to go see some fancy ass doctor," he continued. "I think that's just the problem with everyone: we just ruin each other. People are selfish and do whatever they want to benefit them. It's kinda sick, you know? People are kinda sick. I knew this one guy who…"

Summer pursed her lips as he went on and on. She thought Rick was clearly unaware that he was rambling, which was odd. Rick absolutely hated rambling. He berated Morty every time Morty did it, and he even told Summer to shut up a few times when she'd done it in front of him as well. It was making her uncomfortable, and she knew she needed to say something, but she didn't know how.

Rick on the other hand was completely aware he was droning on, and he kept it up as he mixed chemicals to make a liquid that would close up the wound in Summer's hand. He had to keep talking; he had to keep distracting her from asking why his lab was such a fucked up mess. He kept his space organized all the time, and he knew that she knew that. So if she saw the dismay that had become of the garage, she might put two and two together and…

"Grandpa Rick," she said.

He stopped. He froze completely in his monologue and looked up at her slowly.

 _Aw shit._

Maybe he should send her to a doctor after all.

"What's up with you?" she asked slowly. "What's up with all of this?"

She made a gesture around the whole room. That was the first time he really took in just how much of a mess he'd really made. Broken glass and pieces of the red Fetamin power crystals were everywhere around them. With that much chaos, it was a wonder how he'd failed to off himself the night before.

"I was trying out an experiment and it didn't go exactly as I planned," he lied.

Well, okay, not a _total_ lie; he did fail…

"Bullshit," Summer challenged, looking at him hard. "You can lie to Morty, my dad and my mom, Rick, but you can't lie to me. I saw you yesterday when you came home. Something was wrong and you left before you thought anyone would notice. But I noticed, and I wanna know what's going on, because all of this…it scares me, Grandpa Rick."

Rick stayed silent; he couldn't explain to her what happened. She wouldn't understand. And when he didn't respond, only looked at her with a blank expression, she sighed.

"I won't pretend to understand what you're feeling," she told him. "You've seen more than anyone else has, and I'm sure that's a part of…all this. And I know you think I'm just an annoying teenager who's being noisy and needs to butt out of your business, but honestly Grandpa, you don't need to pretend like you're okay and indifferent to all the things you feel. It's okay to feel sad sometimes."

He watched her face the whole time. He studied how confident and sure she looked; a look she only wore when she knew she had the upper hand in situations. Like that time on Gazorpazorp, when she saved their asses from execution. Or when she beat the piss out of the devil. It was then that he realized Summer had already pieced together what was going on, and he was unsure of what to do at that point.

 _Aw shit_.

He still wasn't responding, and Summer knew she'd just have to drop it all on him at once. So she took a deep breath.

"Look Grandpa…I've been there," she said, turning away from him.

It felt like he'd been stabbed in the chest when she dropped those words. It felt like a bomb had gone off in his chest and left everything empty and torn up and destroyed. But he kept his body still and his breathing even.

"The thing is, I was over feeling like shit about myself. I'm not the most liked person here or at school or anywhere, really. I was an accident and I've always tried to find a place to fit in, but it's never really worked out for me. And a lot of the time, I honestly feel like I'm unwanted or a burden or whatever. So I mean, I get what it's like to feel…that low.

"Granted, I would have gone a little more quietly," she admitted looking around at the mess. "I was gonna force an overdose so there wouldn't be a lot of clean up involved for anyone here. It was supposed to be simple. Like I took every kind of medicine in the house and I was just gonna…well, you get the idea.

"That was the night Morty told me you and him aren't the ones from this dimension. I thought, if they can chose to leave, why can't I? But what Morty told me that day was stuck in my head, and to this day, every time something's wrong, I think, 'Don't run.' And I'm glad I didn't, because there's been a lot of good that happened to me since then. Things aren't perfect, but they're better.

"There are days that suck, of course. There will always be days that suck and you'll have people around you only making it worse unintentionally, but it's just one day. Make it for it tomorrow, or the next day, or whenever. Prove to those people and yourself that you don't suck.

"For you, well, I can't say I know what happened, because I don't. I've never had a bad break up with an entire planet, which is what I think happened with you and Unity. But Grandpa Rick, she…he…they? They I guess...they weren't the only people that loved you.

"My mom loves you, Rick. She waited for you to come back into her life for a long time, and since you've been here with us, she's been happier than I've ever seen her. I love you, even though you can be an asshole sometimes. But there are tons of times when you're not an asshole. And Morty loves you. So much more than I can tell you; you're the only piece of his old life he has, and for him to lose that would be devastating.

"The bottom line is that our lives wouldn't be the same if you were gone, Rick. We'd hate to lose you in any way. And to lose you in _that_ way would be…I don't even know. I just hope you know that."

Rick couldn't recall the last time he'd ever cried in his life; was it that time when the evil Rick had forced him to remember just how important Morty was to him? Was that considered crying? Maybe, maybe not. Point was, it was a long time ago, but this was the closest he'd been to it since whenever that was.

He wouldn't cry, not in front of Summer. If anything, he words had made him feel a lot better, not that he'd openly admit that. But he knew Summer could figure that out. She was smart.

So after all of her words, all Rick could do was nod, and Summer gave a small smile back, because she understood that he understood, and that he was sorry.

A few minutes late, Summer's hand was spread out over the table, Rick filling a medicine dropper with some strange mixture he had made.

"This is gonna burn like fuck for a few seconds," he warned her.

And it did. She yelped as the medicine sizzled and stung like hell. It quickly repaired her damaged hand, and her skin burned itself back together. Before she knew it, it looked like there had never been a cut there in the first place. The only indication was the few stains of dry blood.

Rick was putting things away the bottles and beakers as she was looking over her fixed hand.

"Let's go do something," he surprised her by speaking. "Let's go see a movie or something. I'll clean all this shit later, I just wanna go do something."

"That'd be fun, but I think you and Morty should hang out," she told him. "He'd been really down since we got home, and I think it'd do both of you a lot of good to spend some infamous Rick and Morty time together. Plus, I didn't get a lot of sleep last night and I'm pretty exhausted so as much as I'd love a space adventure, I think I'm gonna relax a little while."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Rick admitted. "Go get him for me."

She nodded, hopping off the stool she'd been sitting on and walking towards the door.

"Definitely ask me next time," Summer threw in before she left the garage.

"Yeah, yeah," Rick said dismissively. "Oh, and Summer?"

She stopped and looked back at him.

"Thanks."

She smiled again.

"You're welcome."


End file.
